No Going Back
by TakesInLight
Summary: ONESHOT Could she do it? Could she betray everything she believed in, everything she knew, just for Him? Warning:  Lord Voldemort x Hermione Granger


Could she do it? Could she betray everything she believed in, everything she _knew, _just for Him? She has grown up, her pre-teen and teen years filled with firm beliefs in the Light and _belonging_. However, as soon as she hit adulthood, the day she turned seventeen, her mind betrayed her. It planted seeds of doubt in her, let them grow. It questioned every single thing she agreed to do. Every single of her beliefs.

Soon, she didn't know what to believe anymore. The words of her best friends and the aged headmaster that was almost like a grandfather to her or the propaganda that the Death Eaters spread like Fiendfyre.

So she ran. She left everything behind, ignored the betrayed looks on her best friends' faces, the hurt looks in their eyes. She didn't look back, she didn't dare to. It hurt enough hearing their desperate pleas to stay, she feared that she will change her mind once again if she saw them running after them.

It just wasn't _fair._

Bitterly, her mind compared her to Wormtail. And it was probably right, no matter how much she didn't want it to be. Her cowardly, selfish action made her just as bad at that traitor. Selfish – something that she never was. Always self-less, putting everyone else in front of her; in her own, special way. Her bossy, fretting-around, bookwormish way.

For once, once in seventeen year old life, she wanted to be selfish. She chose the worst ( or the best?) way to be so. She has left the Light behind, becoming a hypocrite and joining those who wanted her dead. Or rather, wanted her blood to be pure. It was pure idiocy to do so, as she knew the consequences of her actions. When the war finishes in her lifetime – _if _it finishes in her lifetime, she would be dead – or worse – no matter which side she was on. The Light would give her the Dementor's Kiss for treason. The Dark would have her killed because she was a mudblood.

Yet, her selfish mind and traitorous body have bought her to Riddle Manor – the Headquarters of the Death Eaters. Sleeves rolled up showing bare flesh, a dark cloak covering her body and her trusty wand in hand, she stood before large mahogany doors that lead to a large room better known as the Throne Room.

Taking in deep breath, she flicked her wand, magically opening the double doors. As they hit the walls on the other side with a loud _thud_, she jumped slightly but quickly composed herself. Quickly, she walked into the room, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

She found herself walking past rows upon rows of black-clad witches and wizards. Death Eaters. Once the fiends, now the friends – she thought bitterly. They were kneeling on the either side of her, turned towards the front of the Throne Room. Paying their respects to their Master.

Lord Voldemort sat on his throne – cleverly charmed to look like it was made out of human and animal skulls – his wand tapping against his knee. His pale, snake-like face was resting against one of his long, bony hands as his red snake eyes lazily watched over his minions. It was a fantastic sight for him, in the room, there were hundreds of witches and wizards of blood as pure as anything, with political powers wrapped around their little fingers and with connections to the most useful places and people. All of them, young and old, were kneeling before him.

A malicious yet pleased smirk marred his face as he saw the doors bang open. Just as he expected, just as he wanted, the mudblood stood there. The pale skin of her forearms showing, the rest of the body obscured by the black Death Eater robes. She walked briskly towards him, however it took a while as the room was large – holding a little less than two hundred people.

The Mudblood reached the space just before his throne and she fell to her knees.

"My Lord" She said in a clear voice, showing no hesitation.

"Granger," Lord Voldemort said. "Glad you finally joined the right side, the winning side." He chuckled as he stood up from his throne. Slowly, he walked up to the kneeling witch.

"Stand up, Granger." He commanded. The girl quickly scrambled back to a standing up position, however she still kept her gaze on the floor rather than to look at her new Master. Lord Voldemort saw that and cupped the girl's chin with his pale hand. She almost flinched at the touch but stopped herself, yet her Master still noticed.

"Flinching at my touch, Granger?" Lord Voldemort mused. With his other hand, he pulled her hood down so he could see her face more clearly. As soon as the black material slid off, it freed her frizzy brown hair and let light fall upon her face. She was a rather pretty witch, Lord Voldemort thought.

He saw the conflicting emotions in her eyes, the light blush marring her cheeks. "Or is it something else?" While he said that, he let his fingers trail on the skin of her cheeks and it became even redder upon his touch.

She had to stop herself squirming at her Master's touch. She longed for it, wanted it to be more than just a simple brush of the fingers against her cheek. Yet, the sensible Light side of her mind was constantly reminding her of her Master's revolting looks and the fact that he killed so many in cold blood...he was ruthless, dangerous and the epitome of Evil.

And her, Hermione Jean Granger, was attracted to him. Badly.

She was lost in thought when Voldemort decided to let go of her chin. In one swift movement, her hand clasped around his narrow wrist, the feel of the cool scales under her skin a very...pleasant sensation. Suddenly, her eyes widened with fear at her action.

She touched her Lord. _She touched her Lord. _Without any permission. Oh Merlin. She was in deep shit. Oh Merlin, she would be lucky to survive this. _She freaking touched Lord Voldemort without permission._

A malicious laugh escaped her Lord, as Hermione watched him with frightened eyes. She didn't move, she didn't dare to move. Her hand was still in place, wrapped around Voldemort's scaly wrist.

"Granger," Voldemort said. "Young, foolish Granger."

"M-My Lord. Forgive m-me..." She whispered.

"For what, Granger?" He taunted. "Tell me!"

"I-I..." Hermione stuttered. For what? For touching him? For the strange attraction that she felt towards him? For disobedience? She didn't know – a million and one things rushed through her head, yet none of them felt like the right answer.

"My Lord," She swallowed before trying to answer. "Forgive me for disobeying you."

Silence. Hermione hung her head low, her hand loosening around Voldemort's wrist but making no move to let go completely. Voldemort's red eyes stared hard at the girl. She was a rather interesting specimen. It seemed like she was fighting with herself, unsure of what to do. Like she wanted something but didn't know what and decided to clutch the thing that appeared closest to it – namely Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"Granger" Voldemort hissed, moving closer to her face. "What disobedience?"

Yes, he decided, he will play with her a little, confuse her, break her. It did help that she was rather pretty and not completely insane – just yet.

"I-I" She stuttered again. Really, Voldemort thought, it was starting to get bored of the stutters. It was becoming rather unoriginal.

"Do you want this?" He hissed, his pale mouth right next to her ear, his breath caressing it as he spoke. He felt Hermione's body shudder, her eyes fluttered with pleasure. He licked her ear, hearing her breath hitch. "Well?" He drawled.

"Y-yes." She whispered, barely able to speak.

"Well then, you'll get your reward Granger..." Voldemort said huskily. "If you bring Harry Potter to me."

Voldemort snatched his hand from her hold, stepping away from the breathless Hermione Granger. His mouth curved into a smirk as he watched the mudblood's legs unable to support her weight, letting her crumble to the floor. He whipped out his wand, pointing it at her arm.

"Morsmorde."

A glass-shattering shriek escaped her, making Voldemort laugh madly. Hermione curled herself into a ball on the floor, tears falling down her twisted in pain face. Yet, her eyes looked up to Voldemort, and they were still filled with adoration and wanting.

"Bring me Harry Potter, Granger and you'll get your reward." He said to her. "Death Eaters, you're dismissed!"

With a swirl of his robes, Voldemort disappeared from the Throne Room. The Death Eaters, minus Hermione, scrambled off their knees and apparated out, leaving the girl alone.

Hermione's fingers traced the ugly black tattoo that now marred her pale skin. She made her choice. There was no going back now.

(End)

A/N: So, what do you think? Too strange? Disgusting?

I know, I was shocked too when I wrote this. In fact, it scared me. Especially since I can't find anything appealing in Snake-face Voldemort. Clearly, my Hermione found something.

R&R Please!

~Bambi


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